Afterwords
by Riddelly
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. A day after Sherlock's supposed death, John spends a few minutes trying to compose one final blog post. S/J one-shot.


**A/N **_I just watched Reichenbach and I have no words. Sorry if the formatting of this is confusing, by the way; basically, the normal words are what John's typing and the italicized ones are his thoughts. Things in quotes, obviously, are him speaking aloud. Yes... review... PLEASE review. By the way, there IS a bit of slash in here, so... be forewarned... Well, yeah. I didn't put "Romance" as one of the genres, but if I could've picked a third, I would have. Oh, and people, if you haven't read his new blog post, go and do so, like, now. It made me cry, almost literally. _

**Rated T **_for language and violent references_

**Disclaimer** _I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc. _

* * *

><p><strong>AFTERWORDS<strong>

It's over.

/delete

He's dead.

/delete

_Stop being melodramatic. You're a soldier. You're writing something for the public. This is no diary, this is more a newspaper than anything else. _

_Deep breath, try again. _

As I'm sure most of you have read in the newspapers, Sherlock Holmes, recently famed consulting detective, lost his life

_He didn't lose it. If he lost it, it could be found. _/backspace

…Recently famed consulting detective, was killed

_No. It was never murder. Never. He gave—he gave up on you… you weren't enough—_

_Stop it, John. This isn't about you. _/backspace

…Recently famed consulting detective, killed himself by jumping off the roof of St Bartholomew's hospital yesterday.

_There was an older post where I mentioned our meeting there. What was the title? Maybe I'm losing my memory. Maybe I never had a memory. That would be nice, to not have a memory. Then I could forget him._

_But I couldn't. I don't know what I'd be without him._

_Guess I'll find out soon. _

It was where we first met, and I can't help but feel like

_Not about you. Don't care what Ella says, this is a blog, a goddamn blog, not that personal… look at this, this whole thing is rubbish… _/delete

The first thing I want everyone to know is that Sherlock Holmes is real, and so was James Moriarty.

_Tense errors. Can't say they were a simple mistake of conventions, though. Shit. Stop denying things. Fix it, no one wants to hear your sentiment. _

/backarrow /backspace

The first thing I want everyone to know is that Sherlock Holmes was real, and so was James Moriarty. Both of them died in a tragic accident

/backspace

Both of them died in a tragic event occurring on the rooftop of St Barts yesterday.

_Just let it out. Let the words flow. It'll come, it has to. The right words. Always the right words… you couldn't find the right words for him… you could never tell him that—_

_Shut up. Keep typing. Not crying, I'm not crying, I'm a soldier. Just blink, wipe at it, it'll go away. Good. Good. It doesn't matter that it still hurts. That's a constant. It always hurts._

The things being recently published in papers, I can confirm, were absolute lies. I knew the real Sherlock Holmes, I know I did. I knew his brother, as well, a man by the name of Mycroft, and he could confirm as easily as I that Sherlock was never a liar, not about things like this. I knew the real him. I

_I loved him. I loved him so much, I loved him so goddamn much, and I never—I never got to say…_

_Stop it. Just stop. Don't think about that, focus, focus. The keyboard. Type on the keyboard. _

I can promise that he was an amazing person, really. It would mean a lot to me—and to him, I'm sure, if he could see us now—if you would all take a moment to reflect on anything, any tiny little thing that Sherlock ever did for you. Thank you.

/delete

_Why did I do that? I just… I can't, it sounds too… I don't know… it's not right. It doesn't say what matters the most, it doesn't say how… wonderful he was—it… words, stupid words, why are they so limited…?_

I loved him.

_Could leave it at that… but they'd taunt me… taunts aren't what I need, I don't want them to… homo, faggot, freak, that utter shit, that's not… they wouldn't understand, they never would have known him… _/delete

I really don't know what to do anym

/delete

_Cut it out. They don't care. Tell them what they want to hear. _

On the very first night I moved in with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Detective Inspector Lestrade of the Scotland Yard said something about him to me. He said, "Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and someday, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one."

I'd just like to say, for everyone, so that they know completely and thoroughly, that Sherlock Holmes _was _a good man. Honestly, he was the best and the greatest man I have ever known.

And if any of you still believe in that complete shit that James Moriarty was producing, I can tell you now, it's rubbish, it's all absolute rubbish because I knew him and I loved him and he was spectacular, he was brilliant, he was as close to a goddamn bloody angel as any man I've ever met

/delete

_Look, your hands are shaking, you can hardly even press the stupid key. Pathetic. Why are you so pathetic? If you'd been the one to go, he wouldn't be like this. He'd move on. He was never that attached to you, not really… you do realize that, don't you? You do realize that he didn't just die, that he killed himself, that you weren't enough? You weren't enough to keep him back? He called you, yes, it sounded like he was—_

_Crying, oh, god, crying. _

_Stop it. You're a man. This… isn't… no one wants to hear this not the neighbors not Mrs. Hudson stop it John stop stop stop_

"Sherlock…"

_Listen to you, like he can hear, like he would care if you could, pathetic, pathetic_

"Don't _leave _me!"

_But nothing can stop that because he is because he's gone it's over over over over just a dream it was only ever a dream_

_What _are _those sounds, even? You don't sound human, you're like a kid, a little bloody kid being terrified of some horror movie, some fictional concept that never existed, not really… or maybe a dreamland that was too good to be true, because isn't everything, in the end?_

_Okay. Breathe. You've been through worse—no. No, you haven't, but breathe anyway, just keep breathing, it's the only thing keeping you anchored down in life, and you need to stay there, stay there for others, not hurt them like he did you…_

I will always believe in him.

Always, no matter what, those last words to me from the rooftop

/backspace _Those aren't their business. Those were between you and him, like so many of the silent little moments that only you'll be able to remember now… the pool… neither of them are left now. Huh. Guess that once you die, the pool incident will have as well, in a way… two of the most brilliant men ever to live, and they're both—no_

I will always believe in him. Everything from Moriarty was a lie.

_No…_

/backspace

I will always believe in him.

…_Always… Sherlock… I loved you, I still do. You were the most remarkable person I've ever known—they don't want to hear that, though. That's not for their ears. That's for jam and biscuits and going out for milk too often, that's for a failed attempt at Cluedo and a skull gaining dust since you have me to talk to now… that's for rainy days when we had to share an umbrella, that's for all those deductions you made, every time I told you how amazing you were just to see your eyes light up at that knowledge… that's for us, Sherlock, even if us is only me now. _

_It was never for anyone else. But…_

/backarrow

I loved him more than anything, and I will always believe in him.

_They don't want that._

/backspace

He was my best friend and I will always believe in him.

_The door… was that Mrs. Hudson? She must have gone out… now I'm alone, I suppose… if Moriarty came back now—not like he isn't dead—if he came back now I wouldn't have anyone to protect me… but I don't need protecting, that's ridiculous. I survived the war, I can make it through this. _

_His voice… "pass me a pen," "this is a six," "none of the cabs would take me," "you're a doctor," "what took you so long," that voice… that voice is never going to be heard again, not by you, not by anyone, never, ever again. _

_He's gone now. Everything about him. _

He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him.

He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him.

_He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him._

_I loved him, he was my best friend and a thousand things more, and I'll always, always believe in him._

_And I don't care what anyone else has to say._

/disable comments

/post

_There. Done. Mrs. Hudson just left, so go on, let it loose. There's no one to hear you cry. _


End file.
